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Simon Riley Nsfw Headcannons

- Simon loves cockwarming, especially after long, exhausting days filled with paperwork and meetings. He’ll call you into his office, have you straddle his lap, and sink down onto him, keeping you nice and full while he occasionally presses kisses to your temple.

- His British accent always gets thicker when he’s fucking you or when you’ve got him in your mouth. The longer it goes on, the harder it is for him to string words together. When your lips are wrapped around him, and he’s gripping your hair, he sounds even filthier, deep, rough, and almost impossible to understand.

- When he’s away on missions, he sneaks a pair of your underwear or a tiny lace thong into his duffel bag. Late at night, when he finally gets a moment alone, he’ll wrap it around his fist while he strokes himself, holding onto the Polaroid photo of you he always keeps tucked inside his vest.

- Turn on’s: High heels. You in heels is enough to have his cock straining against his pants. And they stay on during sex. No negotiations. Your laugh. Not just the soft ones but the full, unrestrained laughter especially when it’s at one of his god-awful dad jokes. He’s getting a boner on the spot. The way you smell. Not just your perfume, but you. Fresh out of the shower, skin still damp and warm, he’s burying his face in your neck, inhaling deeply before kissing down your spine.

- At first, during sex he starts out with a mix of praise and filthy words, his deep voice spilling the filthiest things into your ear. But once he loses himself in the pleasure of you, his words start to slur together, coming out in broken mumbles that barely make sense. Until he’s just grunting your name, completely wrecked.

- Size Kink? Absolutely. No matter your height or body type, you always look small compared to him, and he loves it. The way his hands completely engulf yours when he pins them down? The contrast of his broad frame over your smaller one? It drives him wild. He’ll groan at the sight of your fingers twitching beneath his as he holds them down, whispering, “So fuckin’ small under me, love— mine to ruin.”

- Loves when you’re vocal, Simon needs to hear you. The little gasps, the way you whimper his name. He craves it. When you two rented a secluded cabin one summer, he took full advantage. Had you screaming his name while he had his face buried between your thighs, eating you out like a man starved. He made sure to fuck you against the cabin wall later that night, just to hear it again.

- You in his clothes, there’s something about seeing you in his clothes that awakens something possessive inside him. Doesn’t matter if it’s his hoodie drowning your frame or one of his shirts hanging off your shoulders. His brain short-circuits every time. He’s even gone as far as hiding your clothes just so you’ll be forced to wear his. And if he catches you walking around in nothing but his t-shirt? Yeah, you’re not making it out of bed for the next hour.

- Loves shower sex, calls the water ‘free lube’, though after one particularly enthusiastic round ended with him slipping and nearly taking you down with him, you had to get grips for the shower floor. He grumbled about it at first, but you caught him checking them out approvingly the next time he pressed you up against the tiles.

this struck something in me

The room is dimly lit, as it always is when you have sex with Simon. Shadows dance along the walls as he drives into you with unrelenting precision. Your back arches off the bed, lips parting in whimpers as his thick, throbbing cock hits that devastating spot deep inside you over and over. His hands grip you firmly, grounding you as your vision blurs, your body trembling under the sheer intensity of him. The air between you is electric—raw and consuming.

But then, just as you’re both caught in the heat of it, his low, gravelly voice rumbles softly against your ear.

"Y’know," he mutters, deadpan, "if I keep fuckin' ya this good, reckon y'might end up snorin' as loud as y'did last night."

You freeze for half a second, your brain short-circuiting before a laugh bursts out of you, completely unbidden. You try to hold it in, but it’s no use—you’re shaking with laughter, gasping for breath as Simon's thrusts slow to halt, watching you with the faintest glint of amusement in his eyes.

You manage to choke out between giggles, "What the fuck is wrong with you?"

He doesn’t respond immediately, just tilts his head with a dry, unimpressed look, though the tiniest smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth. "Just making conversation," he says plainly, as if he hasn’t just shattered the mood entirely.

"Still with me?" he asks, his deep voice a low rumble as his hand cradles your cheek, thumb brushing softly against your skin. You manage a nod, your breath shaky, and a flicker of satisfaction crosses his face.

"Good," he murmurs, his lips ghosting over yours. "Now behave."

The words barely register before he thrusts into you again, slow and deliberate, pulling a gasp from your lips as your vision blurs, the intensity making your legs quiver.

mlist | @machveil thanks for the inspo

more blunt!simon because he’s hot

he doesn’t even look up from his phone when he says it.

just sprawled across the couch, one arm behind his head, legs spread like he’s on a throne instead of a beat-up cushion that still smells like smoke and sweat.

“ya know, if you’re gonna walk around like that, you oughta be ready to get fucked.”

you freeze. halfway across the living room, wearing nothing but a big t-shirt and the tiniest pair of shorts you forgot you even owned.

“like what?” you ask, already feeling the heat crawl up your throat.

he finally lifts his gaze.

smirks.

“like a mouth-watering little tease,” he says. “jesus. i can see the crease of your pussy from here.”

you make a shocked sound—half gasp, half laugh—and wrap your arms around yourself like that’ll help.

he scoffs.

“don’t act shy. you bent over the fridge earlier like you wanted me to notice. ass all high, thighs squeezin’ together like you were tryna get off on the cold air.”

you open your mouth to argue, but he cuts you off, lazy and cruel.

“if i pulled your shorts down right now, you’d be wet already. bet your fuckin’ panties are stickin’ to you.”

you stare. breath caught in your chest.

he grins wider.

“c’mon. lemme see. won’t even touch. just wanna take a look. see if i’m right.”

his eyes drop, heavy-lidded and hungry.

“you do like it when i talk like this, huh? your nipples are hard.”

you cross your arms tighter, turn to walk away, but his voice chases after you—

low and amused and absolutely depraved.

“run off if you want. just know the second i hear that shower start, i’m gonna be sittin’ here jerkin’ off with the door open. loud. so you know what you did to me.”

subtle things simon ‘ghost’ riley does for you

masterlist | simon has a crush on you | captain john price version

everybody on the base is aware of one thing. first – to not mess with the skull masked lieutenant. second – to not mess with the skull masked lieutenant’s favorite. it's clear that simon has taken a liking to you, but he disguises it well enough for it to sweep under your radar.

just knowing eye stares. god. he's such a sucker for just staring at you, be it when you guys are training, when there's a meeting going on, in the barracks, when somebody says something stupid. he looks to you as a form of reassurance, giving you a slight nod most of the time. this is his way to communicate. he's thankful for his mask because he knows damn well he's blushing underneath when his eyes meet yours and you give him a big grin.

speaking of eye contact, if any time ghost says something sarcastic under his breath and you hear it despite being across the room, he will absolutely wink at you. it's disguised so so well omg. especially if you mention something that's a known joke between the two of you, god he’ll just lean back, give you a wink and continue listening to the briefing. (he also subtly checks you out by the way)

has a habit of just messing your hair. he knows it irritates you, but that's just his way of showing affection. the first time he reached out his gloved hand to mess your hair, price just grinned. he knew simon was smitten.

he lets you ramble on and on about things you like, dislike, philosophical debates, anything really, with him occasionally adding quips. soap is so shocked at simon’s change of attitude because when he talks for a minute, the lieutenant just asks him to shut up.

he secretly makes things easy for you. like you gotta carry big boxes to the warehouse? they’ll be done before you know it. a report is holding you up? it's already stapled and on your desk. “what else?” he asks. he's terribly intuitive as well, so he knows when something is bothering you.

has a habit of just standing behind you. that's his way of looking out for you. and if he senses any danger, you best believe he's gonna be on his A game. be it a sniper or be it some new private that made a suggestive remark, he’ll put them straight.

he's your biggest supporter except he's constipated in actually supporting. you did pretty well on a mission? most you’re getting out of him is “you did good, yeah?” but that's it.

he's also so so smug with his remarks. i’m talking constant shit eating grins, smirks, fucking irritating cocky behavior but he’s so hot with it. “you think you can take on me?” even with his mask on, u can just tell!! “oh yeah? c'mere and prove me wrong”

fucking simp enjoys training with you soooo much like especially the ‘first one to get pinned loses’ he puts you down so easily. but then he coaches you as well “c’mon you can fight better than this” as he points out other techniques to use. “atta girl” (i’m gonna kms). always the person to challenge you and push you to your limits because he's not taking a risk when it comes to your life.

who are you when nobody is watching?

torn between wanting to be a beam of light, wild soul, big heart, bright smile, powered by the sunshine, braided hair and quietly beautiful, soft smile, cunning mind, gentle heart with those who earn it, sleek style, clean soul, hair blown out, rich, takes no shit.

I can't resist the siren call

Roommate!Simon Riley that low-key enjoys fucking with your friends Y/N

subtle foreshadowing… I suppose I can dip into my nsfw Roommate!Simon Riley thoughts

Roommate!Simon Riley who shares a laundry bin with you, it had been agreed a long time ago that just doing a big load would be easier. you takes turns, knowingly stealing each other’s clothes every couple days when the laundry is fresh out the machine. you know Simon took an oversized t-shirt you owned, but that’s okay, you took his favorite gym hoodie

Roommate!Simon Riley who doesn’t get embarrassed about his underwear being in the bin with yours, it’s all going in the machine anyways. that doesn’t stop him from raising an eyebrow though when his favorite boxers go missing. he was sure he put them in with the dirties, well, the cleans now. he figures the machine ate it, or maybe they’ll show up some day by chance - he shrugs it off and separates his clothes from yours, snagging one of your oversized sweaters to lounge in later

Roommate!Simon Riley who freezes when he sees you on the couch that night. eyes wide and jaw slack, he can’t bring himself to move. sat watching something on the tv - he can’t be bothered to acknowledge whats playing - he stares at you, wearing his boxers as shorts. “Hey, come watch this— I’ll catch you up since it just started. I’m not pausing it though so you better pay attention.”, your words are all in one ear and out the other. suddenly his legs are moving on their own, stopping in front of you. he doesn’t register what you’re saying, telling him to move because you can’t see the tv, but then he speaks

Roommate!Simon Riley whose voice is deliciously deep, a little raspy from how his throat suddenly feels dry, “S’that mine?”, he asks, eyeing his boxers. he’s never had such a hard time swallowing before, heartbeat erratic as you casually respond, “Huh— oh, yeah. They’re really comfy, the fabrics nice.”. fabrics nice, yeah, he knows. “You— ya know those are boxers, right love?”, he asks, hands twitchy as you reply, “Mhm, just borrowin’ them.”

CW: guilty wank, man is hopeless [kisses his cheek]

Roommate!Simon Riley who’s a mess after that interaction. you wouldn’t be able to tell by looking at him, but he’s losing it on the inside. he’s seen you be audacious with stealing his clothes before, taking his loose-fit tank tops that left little to the imagination on you, stealing clothes you knew he favored and parading around in them, but his boxers? that had him stalking back to his room, quick to turn on his heel before you could see his pants tent

he’s sweating, closes the door to his room a little harder than he meant to. god, he wants to go back out there and see you again, get an eyeful of how comfortable you looked - wearing his boxers like they were yours. you wouldn’t know, and he can’t help but think about it, but you had stolen his favorite pair. they’re plain, a simple black pair, something he bought at the store because he needed new underwear. but when you wear them? they suddenly looked different, makes his heart hammer against his chest. it feels like he walked out into the living room and you wearing lingerie, not something he got for fifteen pounds

he feels a little guilty, shoving his jeans down his thighs as he sits down on his bed. you’re home, sat in the living room just down the hall, and here’s Simon fishing his leaky cock out of his underwear. he really shouldn’t, he should sneak into the bathroom for a cold shower, think about war and blood and bullets to get his boner down. but he isn’t, he’s spitting into his palm and groaning, bringing his free hand up to cover his mouth - he’s never been good about keeping quiet. it’s not his fault you were out there wearing his clothes, you were the one that decided to look so— so cozy and content in your makeshift shorts. domestic

when that word settles at the forefront of his brain Simon’s hips jerk, you looked domestic, wanting to watch some show with him. his leg jolts slightly, hand moving to shallowly pump his weeping head. maybe your friends are right, Simon does take care of you - could bend you over and make you sob his name - he’s basically your boyfriend, often mistaken for your husband. his thighs tense when he imagines a ring on your finger— no, his dog tags hanging from your neck— god, holding you at night as an actual couple—

he’s choking out a moan, muffled and hoarse, as he coats his hand. eyes fluttering shut and breathing heavily, all his thoughts fly out the window as his cum drips down his fingers - all his thoughts except for one. he’s going to have to go back out there later to eat dinner with you, and oh, fuck, he sucks in a deep breath as he chubs up again

TELL ME YOU LIKE ME

FUCK ME TO DEATH

LOVE. ME. UNTIL. I. LOVE. MYSELF.

start over as many times as it takes 🩷